Nine
The Coup
Chapter Text
The second time Joey and Corey meet, it's a coup.
Slipknot's already in existence, as is their first album. The band's growing faster than Joey expected, and everything seems to be going well.
However, there's always going to be a fly in the ointment, and this time, it's called Anders.
There's nothing wrong with him, not really, but he's just... not enough. He can scream perfectly well, but there's something missing from his performances. As the label put it, 'his range isn't big enough'. Joey would be lying if he said he understood exactly what the fuck they mean by that, but he knows full well what it's boiled down to. They need a new singer. And, of course, Shawn chose this guy.
Logically, Joey can understand why. The band's on the up, and recruiting Corey will amount to knocking down their biggest barrier. As it turns out, the rumours about him being an awesome musician are true.
All of the Slipknot boys have been to a Stone Sour gig at some point, and they've all agreed that Corey's amazing. You'd have to be stupid not to. He can roar and scream his way through a song, incensed, and full of a passion that leaks down into the crowd and turns them into a writhing mass of anger. Barely minutes later, the same guy will be crooning some ballad with the sorrow of the world spilling from his lips.
Corey's crazy, and perfect, and exactly what they need.
It has to be him, doesn't it?
Unfortunately for everyone, there's a small, petty part of Joey still hasn't forgiven the man for his faux pas, despite it being over a year ago now.
Besides, the guy has a shitty attitude. Drinking, and partying, and pissing his days away - he'll probably gonna fuck up all the work they've done with his reckless lifestyle, should he join.
At least, that's the excuse Joey's using to justify his hatred. He knows that it's not the real reason, but it's an understandable one, and besides he himself can't comprehend his unadulterated loathing.
He wonders why he's even bothered to come along with Shawn to this... meeting.
They're waiting around the back entrance to the club. The band had gone in this way, and they're hoping they'll leave via the same door. Both men had watched the set, just to ascertain that they are definitely making the right decision. Corey put on his usual awe-striking performance, and no sooner had the band left the stage did the two men make their way to the back door.
They've been waiting for about an hour, now. One of the guitarists has already left, as has the bassist. The latter gave them a strange look, but didn't comment on their presence.
By now they're both bored. Their cigarettes are running low, and their patience lower. Joey's sure that Corey wouldn't leave via this exit anyway - he'd saunter out the front, bird on each arm, and drawing the attention of the whole world.
He is about to voice this opinion, followed by an announcement that he's going home for the night, when his theory is proved wrong. At least, half of it is.
The singer stumbles out the door, a girl attached not to his arm, but his lips. Joey rolls his eyes and glances at Shawn. The talled man just shrugs, and walks forward to grab Corey by the shoulder.
The blond man starts and whips round, making Joey snort at his alarm. Corey apparently hears, because he shoots a glare in his vague direction.
"Wha'd'you want?" He then slurs at Shawn. A hand reaches out behind him for the girl, but she's too busy eying Shawn warily to notice.
"We wanna talk." Shawn relpies, and Joey has to stop himself snorting again at how B-rated Mafia movie that sounds. Because it's Shawn though, he stops himself. The guy's the voice of reason in the band half the time, and the resident lunatic the other half. You never know when he's going to switch though, and either way he's intimidating, so it's best to just stay on his good side.
"I'm off." Apparently, the girl's having similar thoughts, because after that short farewell, she flees out of the alley. Joey watches her - well, her butt - go, before turning back to Shawn and Corey.
"What d'you wanna talk about?" The blond asks, frowning.
"We need a singer." Shawn replies, simply. "You know Slipknot?"
"Yeah... Yeah... You're those freaks in m-masks."
Shawn glances at Joey, smirking. He's clearly pleased that Corey recognises the name, even in his drunk state of being.
"That's us. And we need a new singer."
"Nu'uh. I'm with Stone Sour." Corey shakes his head. He has long hair, and the movement sends it whirling around his head.
"Yeah, and now you're with Slipknot too." Shawn smiles at him.
"Am I?"
"Yep."
"How's this," Joey adds. "We'll get your drunk ass home, 'cos you no longer have a hot date to ride with. And then, we'll see you at practice, tomorrow at two."
"In the mornin'?"
"Yes, you douche. Let's go with that."
The trio make their way back to Joey's car - Corey being physically towed, so as to prevent him getting lost. They pile him in the back.
"I'll drive." Shawn says, before climbing into the car himself.. Joey just shrugs and walks around to the other side. "I know where he lives." Shawn adds. Joey decides not to ask.
When they've dropped their soon-to-be singer outside the grim block of flats in which he lives, they watch him stumble to the stairs and let himself inside.
"D'you reckon we'll see him, tomorrow?" Joey asks.
"If you didn't confuse the shit outta his drunk arse with the times."
"That's a 'yes' then," The drummer smirks and settles back in his seat.
The second time Joey and Corey meet, it's a coup.
Slipknot's already in existence, as is their first album. The band's growing faster than Joey expected, and everything seems to be going well.
However, there's always going to be a fly in the ointment, and this time, it's called Anders.
There's nothing wrong with him, not really, but he's just... not enough. He can scream perfectly well, but there's something missing from his performances. As the label put it, 'his range isn't big enough'. Joey would be lying if he said he understood exactly what the fuck they mean by that, but he knows full well what it's boiled down to. They need a new singer. And, of course, Shawn chose this guy.
Logically, Joey can understand why. The band's on the up, and recruiting Corey will amount to knocking down their biggest barrier. As it turns out, the rumours about him being an awesome musician are true.
All of the Slipknot boys have been to a Stone Sour gig at some point, and they've all agreed that Corey's amazing. You'd have to be stupid not to. He can roar and scream his way through a song, incensed, and full of a passion that leaks down into the crowd and turns them into a writhing mass of anger. Barely minutes later, the same guy will be crooning some ballad with the sorrow of the world spilling from his lips.
Corey's crazy, and perfect, and exactly what they need.
It has to be him, doesn't it?
Unfortunately for everyone, there's a small, petty part of Joey still hasn't forgiven the man for his faux pas, despite it being over a year ago now.
Besides, the guy has a shitty attitude. Drinking, and partying, and pissing his days away - he'll probably gonna fuck up all the work they've done with his reckless lifestyle, should he join.
At least, that's the excuse Joey's using to justify his hatred. He knows that it's not the real reason, but it's an understandable one, and besides he himself can't comprehend his unadulterated loathing.
He wonders why he's even bothered to come along with Shawn to this... meeting.
They're waiting around the back entrance to the club. The band had gone in this way, and they're hoping they'll leave via the same door. Both men had watched the set, just to ascertain that they are definitely making the right decision. Corey put on his usual awe-striking performance, and no sooner had the band left the stage did the two men make their way to the back door.
They've been waiting for about an hour, now. One of the guitarists has already left, as has the bassist. The latter gave them a strange look, but didn't comment on their presence.
By now they're both bored. Their cigarettes are running low, and their patience lower. Joey's sure that Corey wouldn't leave via this exit anyway - he'd saunter out the front, bird on each arm, and drawing the attention of the whole world.
He is about to voice this opinion, followed by an announcement that he's going home for the night, when his theory is proved wrong. At least, half of it is.
The singer stumbles out the door, a girl attached not to his arm, but his lips. Joey rolls his eyes and glances at Shawn. The talled man just shrugs, and walks forward to grab Corey by the shoulder.
The blond man starts and whips round, making Joey snort at his alarm. Corey apparently hears, because he shoots a glare in his vague direction.
"Wha'd'you want?" He then slurs at Shawn. A hand reaches out behind him for the girl, but she's too busy eying Shawn warily to notice.
"We wanna talk." Shawn relpies, and Joey has to stop himself snorting again at how B-rated Mafia movie that sounds. Because it's Shawn though, he stops himself. The guy's the voice of reason in the band half the time, and the resident lunatic the other half. You never know when he's going to switch though, and either way he's intimidating, so it's best to just stay on his good side.
"I'm off." Apparently, the girl's having similar thoughts, because after that short farewell, she flees out of the alley. Joey watches her - well, her butt - go, before turning back to Shawn and Corey.
"What d'you wanna talk about?" The blond asks, frowning.
"We need a singer." Shawn replies, simply. "You know Slipknot?"
"Yeah... Yeah... You're those freaks in m-masks."
Shawn glances at Joey, smirking. He's clearly pleased that Corey recognises the name, even in his drunk state of being.
"That's us. And we need a new singer."
"Nu'uh. I'm with Stone Sour." Corey shakes his head. He has long hair, and the movement sends it whirling around his head.
"Yeah, and now you're with Slipknot too." Shawn smiles at him.
"Am I?"
"Yep."
"How's this," Joey adds. "We'll get your drunk ass home, 'cos you no longer have a hot date to ride with. And then, we'll see you at practice, tomorrow at two."
"In the mornin'?"
"Yes, you douche. Let's go with that."
The trio make their way back to Joey's car - Corey being physically towed, so as to prevent him getting lost. They pile him in the back.
"I'll drive." Shawn says, before climbing into the car himself.. Joey just shrugs and walks around to the other side. "I know where he lives." Shawn adds. Joey decides not to ask.
When they've dropped their soon-to-be singer outside the grim block of flats in which he lives, they watch him stumble to the stairs and let himself inside.
"D'you reckon we'll see him, tomorrow?" Joey asks.
"If you didn't confuse the shit outta his drunk arse with the times."
"That's a 'yes' then," The drummer smirks and settles back in his seat.